When Scandal Came to Town (Scandalous Sons 3)

The sender knew how to pique a man’s interest. A surprise to surpass all others awaited him in Hyde Park. A sight not to be missed. The vermillion seal bore no identifying marks. The handwriting appeared nondescript.

With trembling fingers she snatched the letter, and he noted the scratches on her hands. She must have fought the person who had practically stripped her naked. As she peeled back the folds and scanned the missive, her whole body shook. A tear trickled down her cheek. How odd that a single drop of water could wring knots in his stomach.

“But I don’t understand.” With a look of confusion and utter defeat, she reread the neatly penned words. “Who would send you a letter telling you to come here at dawn? It can only be the person who did this to me. Someone who cares so much for you they would give you my ruination as a gift.”

The thought had not occurred to him. An image of Mrs Crandall flashed into his mind. The fiery-haired matron of the demimonde made no secret of her lust for him. To say she was somewhat obsessed was an understatement. Had she done this to prove her devotion? To tempt him into bed? Surely not.

“This doesn’t have to be your ruination.”

Cassandra jerked her head and snorted. “Blessed saints, tell me you’re not about to propose marriage.”

“Marriage? Do I look like an imbecile?” He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

“Then what are you proposing?”

Benedict glanced back over his shoulder. There wasn’t a soul in the park. “Let me take you home. You can bury your head in my coat. We’ll enter your father’s house via the mews. You can sneak in through the servants’ entrance. Surely your maid will rally to your aid.”

She blinked so many times he couldn’t help but admire the way her long lashes fluttered against her pale skin. “Despite everything that’s occurred between us, you’re willing to help me?”

The devil on his shoulder shouted for him to climb back on his horse and leave her there. Let her face the fact other people despised her, too. Let her spend her life living with the scandal. Was that not a fitting punishment for the way she had treated him?

But he was a scoundrel with a conscience.

A rogue with a heart.

“Perhaps the person who sent me here expected me to celebrate your downfall.” It wouldn’t have been Wycliff or Trent. His friends knew how much he despised Cassandra Mills, but they were men with hearts, too, men he’d trust with his life. “Whoever sent the letter doesn’t know me at all.”

It had to be Mrs Crandall.

“And if Lord Murray loves you as he ought,” Benedict continued, “he will marry you regardless of any whispers of a scandal.” When he first heard of their betrothal it had cleaved his insides in two. He’d used women and brandy to numb his senses. The method had served him well so far. “The sooner he marries you the better.”

“Timothy is a good man,” she agreed. “He would never go back on his word.”

Not like her.

He wondered if she could see the warring emotions playing on his face. But then she looked at life through superficial eyes now.

“One must hope that no one saw you in this dishevelled state last night. You should press your father to bring Murray up to the mark. Today.”

Gratitude swam in her eyes. It made him feel more uncomfortable than when witnessing her disdain. She wrapped her arms across her chest and shivered. He had been so focused on not staring at the pert nipples pressing against the fine chemise, it had not occurred to him that she must be cold.

Benedict stood. He shrugged out of his coat and draped it around her shoulders, half expecting her to toss the garment away like a filthy rag. She didn’t. She thrust her arms into the sleeves, drew the edges across her chest and gave a satisfied sigh.

“Come.” He needed to put some distance between them before the old memories returned to plague his waking hours, to haunt his dreams. “Let me help you up onto my horse. We should leave here before the first morning riders venture out onto the Row.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“You agree? There’s a novelty.”

She slipped her cold, dainty hand into his, and a lightning bolt of awareness shot straight to his heart. Cursed saints. Was Satan out to torture him for being weak, for not leaving her to suffer her fate?

“The muscles in my legs lack strength,” she said, though her gaze lingered on their clasped hands. “I’m not sure I can stand.”

“Then I will help you.” He suppressed a groan of frustration. The last thing he wanted was to touch her, not when he would feel the lush curves he remembered.

“Why are you being so kind?” She gripped his outstretched arm. “One might think you’ve arranged this so you can play the errant knight. Are you so desperate to prove your worth?”

“For the love of God, Cassandra, I had nothing to do with this debacle.” Anger flared. Even in her hour of need she had to taunt him with his illegitimacy. She always spoke as if it was his fault Tregarth had taken a mistress. Was it his fault his mother died in childbirth before she might marry, too? “But one more cruel word and I swear I shall leave you here to perish.”